trains as large cetaceans (and the butterfly unexpectedly)

chillin caterpillar by 4tt4ckitt3n

maybe the trains are large animals,
not unlike the blue whales, stranded,
composite, growing wheels and tails
and then picking their route, out
of the capture, out into the wild
places and fields, to see the cross-dressing hills,
to roar and signal, and rear up
into the cloud-bothered sky over horizons.

magical trains, invoking
stories, and strangers straggling in
stations, struggling through
nights of long waiting, of shrill
piercing breeze, and snows maybe
not coming; of moist midnigts in late
starlit summer dusk, rain
which signifies wetness;

trains make us dream, like the birds
in migration; going from here
to elsewhere, flocking up, waiting
for no-one, expecting
nothing, turning their sun-rusted skins
against the wind and the despair,
trains escape their trap.

all that remains is the dance
of two yellow butterflies, randomly
passing through trees.

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